


across the clearing

by Ominous



Series: into the woods [3]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Confessions, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Werewolves, aaron makes another appearance just to be a lil shit, berry picking dates, big awoos, mild violence, references to Neil's past, some more awoos, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28745322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ominous/pseuds/Ominous
Summary: "Don't presume to know me," Andrew says, but it has no bite, no resentment. He sounds tired, and the strain makes Neil's smile falter, his arms falling to his sides. Andrew should never sound so defeated, so hopeless, not even for a moment. It's the tone of a man who's already lost, and Neil's not even aware of what game they're playing.So he smiles again, shaky this time, and hopes with everything he has that Andrew can sense Neil's truth as well. That whatever it is, Neil will still be riding along with Andrew in his truck. He won’t leave."No," Neil says back, shaking his head. "I only know what you tell me."And if Andrew decides to tell him everything, then Neil only hopes it's because he wants to.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: into the woods [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035921
Comments: 201
Kudos: 515





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kanekicure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanekicure/gifts).



> I'm back with some more awoodrew! Thank you so much Kanekicure for giving me the opportunity to write more of this AU! It brings me so much joy <3
> 
> As always, I want to give a special shoutout to nightquills, who started this AU with me in the dms! It wouldn't be possible without our hcs and ideas <3
> 
> Also thank you Ven for being an amazing friend and bouncing ideas back and forth with me! ilusm! 
> 
> NOTES FOR THIS FIC: Courting practices for wolves include nibbling, nuzzling, and pressing/nudging their bodies close together ;)

The woods are quiet as soon as Neil jumps off Andrew's truck, and his worn tennis shoes sink into the wet soil like the ground is made of foam instead of fossils and rock.

The muddy shift of his heels is all he can hear as he breathes in the frigid air, and he nearly backs up into the car from the suddenness of it. Goosebumps bloom on the tops of his shoulders through his knit sweater, and the chill is bone deep and _fresh_ , which is silly. They aren't that far away from civilization, probably only a good few miles outside of town, but it feels like they've ventured into a place untouched by humanity. Neil often wanders into situations that feel unreal, but this is different. Despite living in his little house on the edge of the woods for so long now, it finally feels like nature is swarming forward. Or away.

He's not sure.

The engine cuts behind him, and the silence spreads along with the musty scent of dew and mushrooms that line the tree roots, and Neil blinks at the dark woods around him. He can't see anything other than the branching shadows, but it's still.

Dead.

Hm.

He thought he would feel safer in the forest if it wasn't storming, but something feels more off than before. The woods are never this quiet, right? Where are the birds, the animals?

Neil can't even hear the crickets buzzing, or the snap of twigs.

Those sounds are never absent, not even when the sky is in a full rage.

His eyes start to burn from trying to make shapes in the darkness in front of him, and the unsettling silence doesn't let up. Neil begins to fidget with the too-long sleeves of his sweater, and he does back up this time. The mud on the underside of Andrew's truck scrapes his ankles.

But all the while, Andrew is calm. Neil hears him inhale the fresh air as he slams the driver's door shut, and then he's pulling a lantern and a duffel from the truck bed with ease. It takes little effort for Andrew to hoist his full weight to reach into the bed, unbothered by the static nature around him. It's only somewhat sufficient in distracting Neil.

He tries to feel safer watching Andrew's muscles flex, the sereneness of his expression reminding Neil that Andrew works out here everyday. He would know if it was dangerous.

And yet...

Neil shivers, glancing around suspiciously, and that's when Andrew stops. It's mid movement, clumsily cutting into Andrew's routine as he holds the duffel in the open air. It's impossible for Neil not to track the abruptness of it, or the way Andrew's focus is immediately on him.

Neil freezes; he's not afraid of Andrew, but there will always be something startling about the intensity in which he looks at him. Andrew's honey brown eyes bore into him, alive in the dark, and searching his soul. Andrew is good at reading him, Neil already knows this, so he's not at all surprised when Andrew sighs.

Neil wants to say it's fond, but what does he know about that? His heart flutters anyways, annoyingly persistent whenever he's around Andrew.

The blond tilts his head and drops the duffel like it no longer matters, and rounds the truck to where Neil stands. He stops just a hair's breadth from him, breathing in and out deeply as Neil counts the freckles and tiny scratch marks on his face.

Neil mimics the action without meaning to, but in an instant, some of the tension bleeds out of him. Andrew runs hot, and even without touching, Neil feels cozier, warmer.

The frigid eeriness is replaced with a toasty ease as Andrew's serious gaze melts into something self-satisfied, and Neil is powerless to resist meeting his glowing eyes.

It's still cold all around them, but Neil simply feels more comfortable. Neil sighs without meaning to, and he's close enough to see Andrew's throat move as he swallows hard. The blond takes one step back, creating distance Neil would rather not have.

They really were standing close...

Neil blinks at Andrew, and the corner of Andrew's mouth twitches. The woods are still weirdly quiet, and Neil finds himself squinting behind Andrew at the vastness. How Andrew, someone so wary and unwilling to turn his back on anyone, can calmly face the unknown, is beyond him.

"Nothing will hurt you here," Andrew says suddenly, as if answering Neil's wariness. Neil inhales at the certainty of it, and well, knowing Andrew...

He hears the unspoken vow there.

_'Because I'm here.'_

And as silly as that is, Neil feels the last of his genuine fear fade like the fog at his feet.

"I know," he answers with a nod, but still gestures to the area around them. He still has to know. He might be a survivalist, but he has minimal experience in forests. This is strange to him. “Why is it so…”

Andrew can't resist the smile this time, it's brief, but amused, almost cocky, and Neil bites his bottom lip. “Animals tend to avoid predators," he says with a shrug, and goes to collect the duffel. "They assume they're being hunted, so they make themselves scarce."

Oh.

Right.

That actually does make sense. Neil has seen enough nature shows to know that most animals are actually scared of humans, and aren't going to attack unless provoked. He _knows_ that, but...

He laughs to himself as Andrew comes back to his side, holding the lantern to illuminate their path. “I always feel like humans are so fragile,” Neil whispers. He's seen people drop dead from so little, he's been at the edge himself. To him, there's nothing more vulnerable than being human. To be brought down so easily...“I forget lots of things are scared of us."

Andrew turns to him again, and although he's shorter, Neil feels as if he's being stared down. Andrew's gaze sweeps over his face, over his scars and burns. “You’re not fragile,” he says, almost commanding. Neil has never met someone who could so easily drill a belief into someone with words, but Andrew does a pretty good job of it. It's as if he's stating a fact, and then his eyes glow with warmth again as Neil's mouth falls open.

He can't argue. He's alive so...Andrew wins with proof, doesn't he?

Andrew sighs next to him again, and Neil feels his toes curl from the heat, and it spreads to his cheeks without his permission. Andrew rocks on his feet, body grazing against Neil's, and without really knowing where he's going, Neil moves forward. It's like being led from behind, coaxed gently in the right direction. Andrew always stays a step behind, and nudges Neil a little whenever he looks back at him in question.

There's no one around, so they should walk side by side, Neil thinks. Though, he guesses Andrew's habits are hard to break. Neil tries not to grin, thinking that Andrew actually considers him someone worthy of protection to that degree.

They make it to Andrew's empty worksite after a ten minute walk from the truck, and Neil takes in the wooden beams, abandoned tractors, and giant oil tanks in wonder. He tries to picture Andrew working out here, sweating in the unforgiving sun and humidity, and finds his throat going dry.

When Andrew told him this was the best spot for stargazing, he was skeptical, but as Andrew ushers him up the ladder on the side of one of the oil tanks, Neil begins to see what he means. It's high up, and he actually thinks he hears Andrew hold his breath once they get close to the top. Neil nearly slips at one point, and Andrew's palm is immediately on his foot to push him the rest of the way.

Neil giggles as Andrew glares at him; it's nice to know even Andrew can get scared, but Neil would never want to prolong the fear for him. Not after the lengths Andrew goes to for Neil's comfort. Neil takes the lantern and the duffel bag and unrolls the thick blanket they packed, spreading it out over the cold metal with Andrew watching him stiffly the whole time.

Andrew's steady breathing resumes once Neil is perched safely on top of the blanket in the center, far from the edges of the tank.

Neil tilts his head up at him, smiling cheekily as he pats the spot next to him.

If Andrew doesn't threaten to push him off at least once, is any of it worth it?

"You're a menace," Andrew mutters as he takes his seat next to Neil, snuggling into the warmth. Neil resists the urge to push himself closer, the thrill of it drumming beneath his skin. Andrew shakes his head rather roughly before taking the lantern from Neil, careful to not let their fingers brush. Neil's thankful this time; he feels like he might combust at the slightest give. Andrew busies himself with hanging the lantern off a nearby pipe, and then dims it slightly. It's almost pitch black then aside from the gentle haze, but Neil no longer feels afraid of the unknown around him. Andrew is next to him, and besides...

The tank looks over the construction site and the edge of the forest, but that's not the amazing part.

When Neil gazes up, all he can see is the sky and the endless stars within. And it's probably dramatic of him to say, incorrect too, but he feels like he can detect the swirling galaxies beyond the smattering of stars, the promise of worlds far greater than their own.

The specks crack through the sky like carved trenches, bursting forward with light and secrets. For some reason, Neil always pictured the sky as this flat layer, something that takes the shape of storms and smoothens out to welcome the calm spring day. But here in the dark, it has holes and pockets, crevices that he can imagine reaching into and prying apart. The stars dance along every dip and wave, and there's never a shortage of them. When Neil blinks away, the sparkling dots still linger, an image pressed against his irises.

It's...not beautiful, no. He never understood that saying; nature isn't trying to _be_ anything, and Neil appreciates that. But it's humbling, and that's extraordinary on its own. He likes it; he could stare at this sky all night, and it would never stay the same, he thinks.

Neil's breath catches in his throat when he looks back up and finds himself correct, almost blinded by the shifting light and glimmer. It's never been something he's liked, feeling helpless in the face of something far grander than he is, but for once he feels put at ease. All his problems shrink until they're specks of dust; his life, his bloody past, his overdue library books...

They all mean so little, at the end of it all. The stars cleanse him of the weight of anxieties that will never go away, just for minute. He could become addicted to this, for that sensation alone.

He feels Andrew staring at the side of his face, and that gaze is the only thing that rivals the stars, the only thing that can pull him away. Neil looks over at the blond with a grin that nearly hurts, and Andrew quirks a brow.

"Told you so," is all the blond says.

And it's so _Andrew_ , Neil can't stand it.

He laughs and flops onto his back, arms wrapped around himself as he stares up at the sky. His body is livewire, singing with giddiness. He reaches out to tug on one of Andrew's belt loops, knowing Andrew's closeness will only make the feeling more intense. Right then, he doesn't care.

Neil squints at the blond; he's not wearing a jacket, despite the plunging temperature, and Neil is appalled by the tank top he's got on. It's a comfort to see the broadness of Andrew's shoulders, but the last thing he wants is for Andrew to get sick.

Andrew follows the pull like it's the easiest thing in the world, and Neil squints when he can't make out a single goosebump on his arms.

Andrew curls towards Neil, body shielding him from the breeze that keeps coming from that direction, and any words Neil might've had on his tongue are eaten up by the look in Andrew's eyes. It's almost...hungry, waiting for something.

Neil can't say he doesn't feel the same way, though he doesn't understand it. He curls himself back and forth, vibrating, and smiles.

Andrew doesn't like 'thank yous' really, so Neil limits his use, but he has to know— "I'm happy you brought me."

His voice is a whisper, but even then it shakes him.

_I'm happy?_

He can't remember the last time he actually said those words, or admitted them, but thinking back to the past two months...

He's been happy a lot? Or...maybe content, is the better word. He's not sure what the difference is. He just knows that even when he's terrified and nervous, he has something to look forward to, he has things that can bring him out of it.

He thinks that's better than being rid of those feelings completely.

Taking care of Atlas, talking to Andrew...

They help him feel this way.

Andrew hums at him in response, like he already knows.

Neil's hand curls against his chest, resisting the urge to reach out for Andrew. This is...this is the other thing that's new. How Andrew makes him feel is different; it's a feeling completely unrelated to Atlas now, though Neil loves his puppy. Andrew has his own place in Neil's mind, growing more and more everyday and grazing the edges. He's not sure what to do about it, and he's not even sure he's supposed to do _anything_ about it.

He just feels like he wants to. One day. Eventually.

For now, he's content to listen to Andrew and whatever he has to say.

"I used to come here a lot on my own," Andrew confesses quietly, shifting his weight a little so he can glance up at the glittering sky. "It's the only time I allow myself to feel small."

Neil blinks in surprise, his own earlier thoughts echoed. He props himself up on one elbow, glancing down at Andrew's face. "What do you mean?"

If Neil is blocking Andrew's view, the blond doesn't seem to mind.

"There's not much in life bigger than me, and if you make the joke I'll kill you," Andrew warns, and Neil smirks. Andrew does feel larger than life to him, but....

He's still short.

He gets what Andrew means though; from what Neil knows, Andrew does a lot. He's constantly looking after people, his brother, his cousin, Atlas...

He works hard, odd hours. Based on their truth game, Neil knows life has been far from easy for him. Andrew's had to claw and fight just like Neil to get his life together, and he hardly had any help along the way. They still made it, but that feeling of responsibility and paranoia will never be removed from who they are. They're not people used to being at the mercy of higher powers, no, more like in direct conflict with them. It's exhausting.

Neil sighs, lying back down on his side. Andrew follows his every move.

"I understand," Neil whispers. "A lot falls to you."

"Mm," Andrew admits, and Neil doubts he would do so to a lot of other people. Andrew likes to state that he doesn't care or concern himself with others, and it's partially true. But Neil knows that once Andrew does take up a responsibility, he takes it seriously, and never does anything half-assed. He's like the sky above, full of dips and contradictions that are random and don't always make sense. But he gives Neil one thing he doesn't give anyone else: explanations behind every intent, every action.

Neil will not allow himself to take that for granted. He trusts Andrew more than he's trusted anyone in a long time, with all his firm decisions and harsh looks. While others might find him unfair, or cold, Neil gets to know the truth.

Everything Andrew does has a purpose, and those hands that hold up so much would never hurt Neil.

It's a bold statement, but one he knows to be true.

Andrew nods towards the sky. "This lets me feel insignificant, for a moment."

And Neil smiles, because yes, he does get it. But even with that understanding, with that echo of his own thoughts, Andrew will never be insignificant in his eyes.

Neil smiles, and barely stops all that from bubbling to the surface as he rolls onto his belly. He kicks his legs up behind him, and briefly stares down at the dark ground below. To think, he only met Andrew because he decided to stupidly venture into those woods...

And he got a doggie out of it.

That reminds him of Atlas briefly, and he looks over to find Andrew still looking at him. Something inside him ties itself into knots, which is silly, because...it's Andrew's dog. What could be the problem? Neil's been wanting to bring this up for a while now, so might as well do it now.

"Did you ever get scared coming here alone?" Neil asks, and at Andrew's confusion, he swings his legs faster. "Like, did you bring puppy?"

In an instant, Andrew rolls his eyes, and Neil smirks at the way he pinches the bridge of his nose. "That's not his name..."

"Well he's _my_ puppy," Neil huffs, and Andrew's eyes open again to peer at him. The resignation from before is back as Andrew sighs, never looking away from Neil's face. Neil's smile falls as his mouth runs dry, overcome with whatever that expression means.

After a few moments of silence, Andrew closes his eyes, serene. "Yes he is."

Andrew's emotions are subtle, quiet things. But Neil spends a lot of time with him lately, and he wants to believe Andrew sounds as overjoyed as he can manage about that.

"I would bring him," Andrew admits, and Neil scoots forward, his window of opportunity opening all the more.

"Why didn't you bring him tonight?"

"He's with Nicky."

Neil tries not to pout. Atlas is a good boy, everyone surely loves him but _still_.

He loves him the most. And with how he's beginning to feel about Andrew...well, whatever it is, having both of them around would be Neil's perfect day.

"I want to see him," Neil continues, pulling on Andrew's belt loop again. "He's going to help me out with the garden, he told me so."

Andrew's eyes shine a little. "Oh, did he?"

"I know he did. I can sense it. Hey—stop laughing at me!"

Neil's confidence morphs into laughter and he fakes a swat at Andrew's shoulder, always careful to not actually touch. He knows Andrew probably wouldn't mind at this stage, but sometimes it just feels like a bit too much for the both of them. Grazing Andrew's skin is lighting a fire under his own.

"I'm not even smiling," Andrew deadpans, and he's right but _is he though?_

Neil glares, and Andrew's neutral expression screams amusement to him.

 _Right_.

Neil rolls his eyes, huffing onto his back as he turns his head towards Andrew. He hopes he seems hopeful enough without outright begging. He'd never want Andrew to be uncomfortable, but—

"So, can he come over tomorrow?" Neil asks, and before Andrew can open his mouth, rushes out, "with you."

Silence. Just what Neil didn't want.

Andrew pauses, mouth twitching before it settles back into a frown, a real one. Neil can already feel some of his hope diminishing, and he sits back up, desperate to make his case. He's not sure why Andrew never wants to come over, but Neil wants to prove it'll be fun.

Maybe he's afraid of Neil's house...

Dan won't come in anymore.

"We never get to be together..." Neil points out quietly, and Andrew's gaze snaps up to his, oddly fierce. It's a direct contrast to the calm amusement from before, almost desperate, and Neil has to wonder if the thought of seeing Neil that much is really so awful. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up, he isn't trying to guilt Andrew, but he simply wants what Andrew usually has no problem giving.

A yes or no.

Andrew isn't someone who pretends to be polite, so it's strange he hasn't outright told Neil he doesn't want to. And...Andrew wouldn't do anything he didn't want to, right? So why spend so much time with Neil at all, or let him take care of Atlas, if he wasn't okay with it?

Neil's not sure. He always feels like he knows and understands Andrew so well until he reaches this strange impasse, where he's missing something vital. It's not his right to know, and normally he wouldn't care this much. He respects Andrew's privacy, but when Andrew looks at him like that, as if he's greatly holding himself back...

Neil can't help but provoke the beast. He likes this Andrew, unrestrained, untempered.

With this though, he's out of his depth. As Neil's shoulders slouch, losing steam, Andrew sits up abruptly, startling them both.

Neil can feel Andrew's breath so close to his cheek, but he doesn't even think of pulling back. A weird daze sweeps him up; the sadness and uncertainty isn't replaced, no, but it's compacted, rapidly losing clarity. Andrew swallows when he seemingly realizes what he's done, and leans back.

For some reason, it pushes Neil to add the last bit of his truth. "I want to see you too."

And there's no ulterior motive behind that, no hope that it might change Andrew's mind. He just wants him to know.

Andrew's shoulders sink a little, and he tilts his head. Neil finds himself mimicking the motion. "You're with me now," Andrew says, and Neil shivers.

And perhaps it's a symptom of being a free man, he's not sure, but Neil finds himself greedier and greedier. Neil smiles at the statement, because even with his confusion, he still finds joy in the knowledge that _yes, I am_.

Andrew stares at Neil's mouth for a moment, inhaling deeply, and then nods. Neil doesn't question it as Andrew gently nudges them both back onto the blanket, and there's always a certainty in how he moves that Neil finds hard to resist. Whatever conclusion Andrew is coming to, Neil trusts him and goes willingly, calmly, with the stars covering them both.

He feels his eyes go lidded as he goes back to staring at the sky, the comfortable silence a welcome companion to the sensation of being so small. It reminds him there really is no rush, no urgency. Andrew is here with him, under the endless galaxies.

And just when he comes to terms with that, eyes fluttering closed, he hears Andrew whisper:

"I'll see what I can do."

Neil's answering smile is impossible to tame away.

\--

The next day, he hears the sound of Andrew's truck firing at the end of his driveway.

Neil bolts up from where he's about to slip into his nearest discovery, a crawl space under the house. It's the second little bunker he's found, how about that?

The sound of the driver side door erases his curiosity though, and he sees a flash of blond and black leather moving from the driver's side.

_Andrew!_

Neil pops up like a groundhog, though clumsily, knees stained with dirt and scrapes. He grins when he sees Atlas lounging in the back of the truck, staring at him and then up at the house warily.

_Hm?_

He looks over at it himself, and finds nothing amiss. In fact, he added two new wind chimes, bringing the count up to twenty-three.

Neil shrugs.

He starts to walk over, brushing off some of the cobwebs and dust from his hair, when he realizes that the person walking to the back of the truck to let Atlas out _isn't_ Andrew.

Neil deflates as he watches Aaron glare at the truck bed, unlatching it to let Atlas free. He's dressed similar to Andrew, strangely, but the aesthetic doesn't feel as right on him.

Neil thinks Andrew looks better, but that's just him.

He sees Aaron mutter a few words to his dog, tone hushed and harsh, and Neil can't help but glare. First no Andrew, that he can try to manage. What he won't tolerate is someone else scolding Atlas before he's done anything wrong!

Peering into the passenger's side and finding it empty, Neil sighs, and walks to the back of the truck. "Andrew?" he asks, trying not to sound too let down.

Aaron freezes, eyes widening, and Atlas chooses that moment to climb off the back of the truck. The whole car whines from the weight. He takes his perch at Aaron's side, sitting tall, and looking thoroughly pleased.

_Guess he's happy today._

Aaron flounders for another moment, trying to get a grasp on his words.

"Um—yeah, I mean _no_. Something came up," Aaron says, and winces when Atlas growls at his side. "He said he'll see you soon though, it was work related. He _really_ wishes he could be here."

Aaron sneers at that, then tries to mask it with an innocent smile. Neil just thinks it's creepy, and he's delighted when Atlas snaps at him.

He shouldn't encourage the behavior but also... "Good dog."

Atlas perks up, tail wagging, and Neil smiles. His eyes really are glowing today...he and Andrew have that in common.

At the thought of Andrew, Neil replays Aaron's words in his head. _He'll see you soon._

And the disappointment still lingers, but with Atlas pawing at the ground excitedly, Neil thinks he can manage.

It makes his heart flutter, and he can't blame Andrew for work. He knows his schedule is unpredictable and taxing, he's just happy Andrew thought of him enough to still send him Atlas. He'll just have to take pictures or something, that way he can send Andrew updates.

Aaron watches the scene in front of him, his smile turning more and more unsettling. Weirdo.

"That's okay, we'll manage." Shaking it off, Neil nods, and then sinks to his knees and stretches out his arms as wide as he can. "Hi puppy! Come here!"

But instead of running to him, Atlas tenses up, which makes Neil echo the stiffness. His smile falters a bit, and he blinks in confusion. _Oh, well...that's weird._ "What's wrong?" Neil asks, and even though he knows the dog can't respond, Atlas is pretty good at letting Neil know with his body language that he's uncomfortable.

Still...it's rare to see these days. Atlas _always_ runs up to cuddle with him.

Yet the dog stays there, stiff, like a cardboard cutout.

"Go on boy," Aaron coos, laying it on extra thick, and Atlas slouches. "You know you want to."

Atlas sneezes, growling, and Neil's still not sure what changed, but he won't force it. It's silly, how much he'd been looking forward to the hug though. Neil despises touch in mostly any other scenario, but he's opening up slowly. Atlas helps.

Neil lowers his arms, trying not to sound too pathetic at the rejection. It's not personal. It's fine. He doesn't think he manages to keep the sadness out of his voice. "Oh...that's okay then—"

At his words, Atlas jolts up and runs over to him, nearly knocking Neil over in his haste.

The sound that comes out of Neil's mouth is not graceful, almost like he's been punched, but it dissolves into a laugh a few moments later as Atlas nuzzles him gently. Neil smiles, hugging him tight as he tries to get himself off the sidewalk. Atlas could suffocate him, if he really wanted. Neil wriggles beneath the weight, and Atlas whines. "Awww, I missed you too!"

"Aww indeed," Aaron deadpans behind them, and Neil looks up just in time to see Aaron smiling, holding up his phone to snap a photo. "Smile!"

Atlas spins around, but it's too late. The flash nearly blinds Neil, and Atlas goes still in his arms. Hm. Must've scared him.

As much as Neil finds it hard to get along with Aaron, he'll have to ask him for the photo later.

"Anyways, I'll come pick up the mutt later," Aaron says with a laugh, smirking as Atlas trots off towards the house, trying to herd Neil along with him.

"He's not a mutt!" Neil tries, and then nearly trips when Atlas gives a particularly weighty shove. _Okay, okay, I'm coming!_

_Maybe he's hungry..._

Aaron smiles at Neil cryptically, reaching forward to pat Atlas on the head. "Oh, believe me, I know best," he says, impervious to Neil's answering glare. At the last moment, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, brown envelope, and hands it to Neil. Andrew's handwriting is particular, in that he writes in all caps, and Neil smiles at the messy scrawl.

Aaron rolls his eyes when Neil blinks up at him. "From Andrew. See ya!"

And with that, Aaron throws a laugh over his shoulder and gets back into Andrew's truck, making sure the tires screech as he peels off from the curb.

Okay.

"What's his problem?" Neil whispers down at Atlas, but he receives nothing but a tired growl. _Yeah, I don't know either._

Neil shrugs as a gust of wind blows through the trees, causing the wind chimes around his house to go nuts. If he's going to solve this crawl space problem, he'd better start now before it gets too cold. Determined, he smiles at his doggie, and runs a hand through his thick fur.

"C'mon pup, time to get to work."

\--

For some reason, Atlas freaks out when Neil attempts to even slide one foot into the crawl space, and tries at several points to collapse the thing in a mountain of dirt so Neil can't try to go back.

So, that plan is for another day.

Neil takes Atlas' head in his hands after his last attempt at scaling down beneath the house, bringing him down until they're eye level. "I'm. Fine. See? I'm not gonna get hurt, it's just a hole in the ground!"

Atlas blinks at him, and then proceeds to lick his face rapidly. Neil collapses in a heap on the dirty lawn, sinking into the grass like it could swallow them both up and trap them forever. It would be scary, if he wasn't so used to it. It's fun too; the grass is so tall it covers most of them, it's like they're hiding.

Hiding because one wants to, and not because they need to, is also a new sensation Neil finds himself indulging in. It's especially fun to pop out of the grass when Matt comes to visit, because if Neil's lucky, Matt will scream.

For now, he's the only one making any noise.

Neil cries out as he's tackled, a shrill sound mixed with laughter, and raises his hands in surrender. "Alright! I get it! I won't go!"

Atlas licks him again before rising up to his full height, whining above him. Neil tries his best to make the same sound back at him, but it sounds more like a yowling cat.

_Yeah, yeah. I know._

Sneezing, Atlas trots back to the entrance of the crawl space, and kicks his legs into the dirt until it's covered.

Well then.

Neil sighs, but it's all fondness as Atlas comes back to accompany him inside the house. Neil reaches up to pet him gently, and Atlas' ears fold back.

_I know you're just worried._

And he's still not used to that; he's not used to being seen as something worthy of the protection and care, not from people, not even from an animal.

But he supposes Atlas isn't so complicated. Neil cares for him, why wouldn't he return the favor?

For some reason, it makes Neil think of Andrew, of the way they protect each other with affirmations and honesty. Something in Neil expands, hollow, and he's not sure how to fill the space.

"You're just like your owner," he whispers, barely audible over the growing wind. The chimes around the house scream, along with the creaking windows and floorboards that he shouldn't be able to hear from outside. He wonders if its the house telling him to come inside. He smiles as Atlas stares, laser-sharp focus.

"I've never had someone worry about me as much as he does. I don't know how to tell him that it's okay, you know? I'm used to getting myself out of trouble..." He stalls and Atlas sighs, nudging Neil's hand when it goes still for too long. Neil doesn't mean to, but his grip in Atlas' fur tightens, and yet Atlas doesn't move a muscle, doesn't flinch. Neil swallows shakily, and even though he's miles from the nearest house, even though it would be impossible for anyone to hear him, he drops his voice to a lower whisper. "But lately...I'm not sure I want him to stop."

It's not that he doesn't get care from other places; Dan and Matt care for him greatly, and they do a lot for him. But the yearning he feels for Andrew's protection and watchfulness is more exhilarating...tingly. Andrew makes Neil feel like he wants to be protected, which is not something he's ever experienced before. He's usually so deadset on not being noticed, not being a burden or anything remotely close to it.

He wouldn't want to ruin that balance.

And like that, Neil's throat begins to close up. At the shift, Atlas choose then to dip his head under Neil's arm and push up gently, hoisting Neil to his feet. It's so easy for him, Neil feels as light as a feather.

Atlas glances down at him curiously, and Neil pets his snout, a silent plea for him not to worry.

Neil will be fine.

"C'mon boy, time for a bath."

He leads them up the rickety porch steps and thinks he can drive the thoughts away by giving Atlas another bubble beard. Maybe he can even make a little mountain on his head...that would be a cute picture to send Andrew.

Come to think of it, he bought some more doggie outfits at the pet store the other day...

As he thinks it, he makes the mistake of looking down at the cabinet he has in the kitchen. On top of it sits Andrew's unopened envelope, with Neil's name in big, bold letters. Andrew even took care to underline it, as if it could be identified as for any other soul.

Neil falters, and doesn't move even when Atlas leans down to lick his hand.

He could've sworn he left the envelope in the kitchen drawer, burning a hole in the wood until Neil found the courage to open it at some point.

He hasn't been able to stop thinking about it, truthfully. Not even throughout an hour of Atlas helping him pull weeds and rearrange the molded gnomes. He reaches forward and slides his fingers across the twine that binds the envelope shut.

Neil closes his eyes and sighs, knowing he's wasting his own time. What is he doing?

There's nothing more that he wants than to know what's in it.

It's probably something generic, an explanation, maybe some tips for Atlas. But it doesn't matter. It's Andrew's words, his presence, just for Neil.

Atlas whines again at his side, licking Neil's now trembling hands, and he makes the decision then.

With a quick swipe of the nearby knife on the counter, he cuts the twine in two, letting the frayed edges snap into dust.

There's just a note inside. A note, and a key.

Swallowing, Neil lets the singular sentence wash over him.

_'I hope this is raincheck enough, so take it for what I can't say.'_

Neil squints, rereading it over and over.

_What can't you say?_

And as cryptic as it is, Neil gets part of the underlying meaning when he realizes what the key is for. He runs his hand over the clunky base and the faded logo, the edges spiky as if the key has been chewed up, and hears the ghost of a firing engine. He's held the key to Andrew's truck before of course, only in passing, only to help. It never felt this heavy, or this final. It never felt like _his_.

But now it is.

It's a small token of Andrew's word, that they'll be together soon, and in many moments going forward. Neil curls his fingers around it tightly as he brings it to his chest, and imagines sitting in the driver’s seat, by Andrew's side, for years to come.

And that's when Neil can't take it anymore.

The original plan was to keep these feelings at bay until he was absolutely sure, and he was almost there, feet from the finish line. But the key feels like a blazing push forward, over the line and far beyond, where clarity is the only option.

This is not something he can help, not from this point on.

Neil looks over at Atlas helplessly, to find the dog already trained on him, face half cast in the shadows. It splits him in two, but Neil's not deterred. He leans forward until he has a face full of fur, burrowing himself deeper and deeper. The dog doesn't so much as budge, and Neil's forever grateful for the pillar.

"Oh Atlas, I don't know what I'm doing," Neil groans into his fur, and sinks onto the tile. Atlas goes with him, cushioning him. Neil glares into the hallway, like the house can somehow manifest a solution for all his troubles. Not even the attic can probably do that.

"I was never supposed to be alive, I'm not supposed to be experiencing this," he says in the silence, a wave of old, yet eternal issues rushing forward. He's so glad to be alive, but it's times like these he's reminded of how much was robbed from him. So much knowledge and emotion runs between humans and all creatures, and yet he feels like a loaf of wet bread. He's been free for a while, he's gotten to know and experience so much, and yet there are things that will always be new waiting for him on the horizon. Matt and Dan probably would be so overjoyed at this particular revelation, but... "I'm just _lost_. I know what these feelings mean now, I'm not _that_ dense, but what am I supposed to do about them? What do most people _do_?"

He looks to Atlas, as if he can answer, and Atlas only stares, ears going back. For the first time during these discussions, Atlas looks away in the middle of their stare down. It's like he simply can't anymore. The dog focuses on the far wall, hardly breathing. _Guess you don't know any more than I do, huh?_

Atlas sags further against the tile, as if Neil's mood has brought down the entire bubble around them. The dog twitches rather violently then, a ball of nervous energy, and the guilt creeps over Neil as he hears the dog whimper.

"Oh boy..." Neil gently pulls Atlas' head into his lap, and finds the dog riddled with tension. Softly, Neil shushes him, stroking his fur. He doesn't mean to stress the dog out, but he can barely calm himself down. Atlas stays stiff, but doesn't jolt anymore, digging the side of his face into Neil's stomach until his ear is smushed.

The dog's strange reaction actually does temper his own in some ways, and Neil huffs to himself as he works through the tangle of emotion in his chest.

"Most people actually probably keep it to themselves," Neil mutters, laughing dryly. If the shows and movies Dan forces him to watch are correct anyways. Neil shakes his head. "But I'm not that kind of person. I don't think Andrew is either."

He knows Andrew isn't. He's straightforward, blunt. Neil appreciates it more than Andrew probably knows. There's no pillowing or kid gloves, Andrew gives it to him how it is, and knows Neil can handle whatever is thrown at him.

He wants nothing more than to have that same respect for Andrew. And so—

"I need to tell him," Neil says softly into the silence, and he hadn't realized how long he'd been sitting there with Atlas in his lap. The kitchen is dark now, the shadows of the outside trees barely making it through the boarded up windows. Atlas whimpers again, and Neil can relate. He's shaking, but he doesn't regret the decision. He knows it's the only direction he can go from here. It's not only what he needs either.

"I _want_ to tell Andrew," Neil admits to himself. He wants Andrew to know the truth, that he's not just Neil's friend anymore, not in Neil's heart or...wherever that stuff happens. Is it technically the brain? Doesn't matter.

It's real, is all he knows, and all he cares about. "It's unfair to him to keep that to myself when I'm feeling this way," he tells Atlas, and although he's just a dog, Neil yearns for the relief of staring into the dog's eyes and pretending he's being heard. It takes a lot for Neil to pry Atlas' head away from his stomach this time around, the dog does not go easily. But eventually, resigned to his fate, Atlas lifts his head until he's facing Neil, eyes almost glistening. No, that can't be it. Maybe it's Neil's own watery eyes, playing tricks on him. Neil inhales, steeling himself, and gives Atlas one more pathetic, vulnerable truth.

"I just hope...I hope he doesn't leave."

He hopes he can keep the key in his hand, and that Andrew stays by his side. He doesn't need to return Neil's feelings, Neil can shoulder them on his own. All he needs is Andrew's _no_ , and he'll never mention it again.

His body trembles one last time at the thought, but he'll learn to deal with that too. Atlas tilts his head back and howls lowly, the sound reverberating against the walls of the house. It sounds sad as it echoes down the halls, and Neil feels the ache in his bones as it runs through him too. Neil can't help but blink at the dog as he does it, head stretched toward the ceiling. _You've never done that before..._

The howling lasts for another few seconds before breaking off into a whine at the end, and Atlas sinks back to the ground, chin to the tile. Exhausted.

They're both muddy and tired, and in desperate need of a bath, but Neil finds himself in no rush to move. It feels wrong to abandon the moment anyways. He worries that if he does, all certainty will vanish as if it never existed in the first place. He whispers 'alright' instead, and lets them lounge there a moment longer. It feels like he can still hear the howl long after it ends, and he finds himself yearn just as strongly, tilting his head towards the ceiling.

"Yeah," he says into the darkness, key close to his heart. "I wish he was here too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, second half! I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> note: once again, wolves court by being very nuzzly and nudging so ;)))) and also....I wont sit here and lie by saying there wasn't some serious horny energy in /that/ scene so...just know...I know 
> 
> Thanks so much to ven for helping me read this over and giving me lots of feedback! and as always thank you to aftg twitter for bouncing off their amazing ideas ;) It means a lot to me that y'all have fun with this silly au <3

Andrew, true to his nature, keeps his word about seeing Neil again soon, though not in the way Neil would've thought.

Neil hears the door to Andrew's truck slam in front of his house, and he's embarrassed to say he probably perks up faster than his dog. He's not sure about the suddenness of it, or the reason.

He's glad though, _relieved_. After that last night with Atlas, Neil hadn't been able to get ahold of Andrew at all, and Atlas hadn't come by for his usual Sunday bath. Days had passed, without word or whisper, as if Andrew were mulling something over right in front of him.

It makes sense to Neil, that feeling of Andrew being with him even when he wasn’t...

Ridiculous. It's barely logical when he tries to put it into words, but it's what he feels, and he's been better about embracing those things.

Regardless, the key sat heavy in Neil's palms as he fiddled with it, never letting it go but never allowing it a moment of stillness as the days passed.

_Worry_ is a new emotion, when it comes to others. Neil's used to worrying about _himself_ , if that. But this wasn't the normal, measured distance Andrew sometimes needs.

They both value their space and privacy, but this had felt like a freeze frame, a gaping hole where Andrew had purposely chosen to make himself scarce and untraceable.

Neil was beginning to wonder if something had happened, when Andrew decided to finally text him out of the blue that everything was fine, that he'd see Neil soon.

_Soon_.

Neil's not sure why he's beginning to hate that word. He's never looked forward to anything enough to be particularly impatient. He's realized that anxiety is a hell of a lot different of an emotion than this; this anticipation _burns_.

It feels childish looking back; it was only a few days. How Neil's allowed himself to grow so attached that even that small blip feels odd...

Well, he's just content to know Andrew is alright.

As soon as he sees Andrew though, even that gets cast into doubt. It's not something he can explain. He's familiar with the signs of people hiding something, of the dread that can't help but permeate and taint the air no matter how good at lying someone is. Something always feels wary and heavy in those situations. Foreboding.

That doesn't happen.

It's early when Andrew picks him up, a particular hour when the sun is hidden behind the dense fog, trying to desperately extend twilight for a couple more precious hours. It's Neil's favorite part of the day, because time doesn't seem to exist. The streets are mostly empty, and it could be evening just as easily as it could be afternoon. The world sits in a calm, lazy gray, and the sole lamplight in front of his house flickers in a dingy orange hue.

Even then, Andrew is a bright point that Neil gladly seeks out as he trips over his own tattered sneakers. At the promise of Andrew's time, Neil pulls on his red hood on his way out the door. It's a little big on him, drooping down over his face every now and again, but it shields him from the cold as he rushes onto the dirty porch. His feet kick up dust as he just about screeches to a halt on the edge of the first step.

If he seems too eager as the screen door slams behind him, so be it. The cold air fills his lungs and Andrew is in front of him. That's all he registers.

It passes by in a daze, with Andrew leaning against the hood of his truck as he waits for Neil to hop down his porch and let Andrew take him wherever he wants to go. Nothing is unusual about it; Andrew still rolls his eyes at Neil's lack of appropriate footwear, still tilts his head at Neil's approach, eyes smiling in that subtle way. The scent of rain and smoke sits extra potent in the air, lulling Neil into a sense of safety and comfort. It's an easy two step, where Andrew waits for Neil to move, and reacts calmly. There's always this give and take that never makes Neil feel pressured, and it's as if he can communicate by those small movements alone. His legs move, and Andrew takes it as his silent acceptance, and moves back to the driver's side door.

But he doesn't get in.

Andrew tugs on the handle and looks at Neil expectantly, and Neil's heart flips once he understands. Andrew wants him to unlock the car.

Neil bites down his smile as he runs to the passenger side and fits the key into the lock, delighting in the click as if it's proof that this is his. Andrew really has given him another place in his life, even if it's just on the shredded leather of his truck seats.

He can't wait to get a keyring of his own.

Andrew's lips quirks up ever so slightly before the ghost of his smile is gone, another fleeting gesture he only gives Neil. And while the smile might be gone, Neil's sure the feeling isn't.

Neil grins and jumps into his seat, practically vibrating despite the earliness, despite the mystery.

He doesn't know where they're going, but he doesn't care. He'd follow Andrew anywhere he wants to take him.

But even with all of that, Neil senses something off as they drive away, as the silence blankets them like the frost on Andrew's windows. Andrew's shoulders are stiff, and though Neil keeps his eyes staring out the side window, he feels Andrew's pierce him every few minutes. He's being watched, _studied_ , and not in the typical calm way Andrew tends to observe him. There's that anticipation, without the dread. Neil knows the stench and sting of bad news, and this doesn't hit the mark.

But as dense as he can be with people, secrets are things that he's oh so familiar with. When Andrew's ready to tell him whatever he needs to tell him, Neil will listen.

He tries not to fidget in the meanwhile. The silence is too cozy to break with his teasing and questions, and he lets himself be whisked away.

They don't drive for long, about ten or twenty minutes into the backwoods behind Neil's house. He's lived around here for a while, but he hardly ever ventured into the woods. Other than his practiced short cuts, they're an uncharted maze to him, whereas Andrew seems to be an expert. He pulls them into a little clearing as they go off road through a secluded dirt path, one overgrown with weeds and mushrooms. It's obviously not used often, but Neil squints at the faded road markers. It's beloved by someone, that much is clear.

Neil has to plant his feet as the road grows bumpier, jostling him around the compartment while Andrew stays perfectly still. Neil does his best to avoid bumping into Andrew, but the few times he does, there's no change in the blond. If anything, Neil wants to say his eyes glow even more. He tries not to overthink that, his own feelings surging up against his will. He hasn't figured out how he'll tell Andrew, but he wants to enjoy this last trip before he does.

When they finally stop, they're surrounded by green shrubs, and he stumbles out of the truck as he follows Andrew into the midst of it.

"Whoa..." He breathes, because this feels like something that should be out of a nature documentary, not in his own backyard. But, maybe that's on him for not exploring. The bushes are so bright in color, Neil almost asks Andrew if they're fake. They're like the kind he sees in department stores, without the plastic sheen.

Before he can say anything, a small white wicker basket is thrust into his hands. Neil blinks down at it, and then back at Andrew. "What's this for?"

Andrew stuffs his hands in his pockets as he studies his shoes, then looks back up at Neil. There's a new determination there, one that rivals the usual intensity, and Neil can't help but meet the gaze head on.

After a brief hesitation and a sharp inhale, Andrew steps closer, right into Neil's bubble. Neil doesn't necessarily tense, but he is surprised. He's used to having Andrew near him, guarding him, but this is the closest he's ever gotten. Soon all he can feel is Andrew's breath on his skin and all he can smell is smoke and something far too delirium-inducing. Andrew watches him for any reluctance, and upon seeing none, moves in completely to nudge Neil forward with his body.

"Oh," Neil can't help but utter quietly as he's moved, Andrew's weight gently pressing against him. Andrew's...Andrew's just so _warm_.

Neil nearly trips over his own feet as he's walked towards one of the many bushes, and whenever he strays from the right direction, Andrew is there to nudge him back with his shoulder or his chest, or a hand on his lower back.

Neil has to resist nuzzling back, and convinces himself that's not what Andrew is doing, but...

What else would he be doing?

Neil shivers as Andrew does it again, halting in front of one of the denser plants. Neil opens his eyes, and only realizes with mild astonishment that he'd closed them in the first place, soaking in Andrew's presence beside him. When his vision focuses, he realizes the bushes have—

"Berries," Andrew states simply, then sighs. He rubs the back of his neck and then gestures to them again, as if that explains everything. Neil blinks at the fruit, at the freshness, and imagines licking the juice off his fingers.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, the giddiness in him brought up to a slow boil. It's amazing how simple things like this can make him content, but it's even more bewildering how Andrew knows it too.

And before _Neil_ does.

"I like berries," Neil says with a smile, an inkling of understanding coming through him. Of course he doesn't need to tell Neil that, since it's clear Andrew catered this entire activity to Neil's tastes.

He'd once debated with Andrew for a full twenty minutes in the fruit aisle at the local supermarket, when Andrew confessed that he only ate apples and strawberries.

Heinous.

As if reading Neil's mind, Andrew scowls. "I didn't ask."

_No, you just knew._ Neil's hands curl tightly around the handle of his basket, suddenly excited. "That's why we're here isn't it?"

_You wanted me to have fun._

Well, more than that. Andrew wants Neil to be happy when he tells him whatever he needs to tell him. And though he figures that out, it doesn't set off any alarm bells in Neil's head. He trusts Andrew to not deceive him with this, to not lead him astray with a false sense of security before dropping a bomb on him.

No, it's clear evidence that whatever is on Andrew's mind, he's overthinking it as he usually does.

It makes Neil bite back a smile. He also resists his questions of whether or not this is a date. He's not sure what category berry-picking falls into, and it doesn't matter. He reads the intent loud and clear.

When Andrew doesn't answer, only huffing in response, Neil smiles, validated in full.

He lets Andrew take all the time he needs to think his words over, and begins the process of stripping the bushes bare. He's not good at baking by any means, but he wonders if he gives the haul to Matt, he'd be able to make a pie...

His basket gradually fills with berries over the next twenty minutes as Neil grabs them frantically, like they'll disappear. Sometimes he grabs them a little too hard and they stain his palms, and he swears he feels Andrew's amusement roll off of him.

Andrew will only intervene to nudge and nuzzle Neil in the right direction, hip checking him or leading him by the neck. "Not those, they'll make you sick," Andrew says, and lightly brushes Neil's hand towards another bramble. "Here."

But Neil can't focus anymore. Andrew's touch has been constant and growing in tenderness; Neil wouldn't say it's out of character. Andrew's movements and demeanor have always felt...barred. It was as if he was holding himself back, dangling on the edge of intention without actually following through on the action. So no, it's not strange or out of character. It's just new. It's just that finally, it feels like Andrew is relaxed. Like maybe, he’s doing what he's always wanted to do.

Why today?

Neil shivers and moves back, overcome with it. It's more touch than he's used to receiving, but when it's from Andrew, he only finds himself craving more.

It's dangerous, because it isn't. Andrew is safety in its purest form, because he doesn't promise Neil a lack of bluntness or harshness. He's the buffer, someone who will do whatever Neil needs to make it easier, without ignoring the ugliness that sometimes rears up.

That's why Neil trusts him, that's why he also wants to be there for Andrew. And as much as Neil would gladly get lost in this new dance of theirs, he knows Andrew won't be at peace until he speaks whatever is on his mind.

At Neil's distance, Andrew takes a step back himself, hands flying to his pockets to show Neil that his hands won't touch him if he doesn't want them to. Neil laughs to himself. If only Andrew knew.

"No?" Andrew asks.

Neil shakes his head, but holds his _yes_ back as much as he hates to. He remembers the feelings burning a hole in his chest, the ones he confessed to the darkness of his kitchen with Atlas in his lap. It's not necessarily the time for them, but if they happen to leak out in bits of honesty, then so be it. With how today feels, he's beginning to wonder if Andrew's feelings might not be as far off as his own.

He steels himself, placing his berry basket onto the ground. "I like it," he says, and Andrew perks up, shoulders rising an inch from their drooped position. "But I _am_ curious."

Andrew freezes.

Neil almost feels bad, which is rare; he has no room for second guesses. He doesn't understand traditional flirting or desire, he just understands Andrew. He can comprehend enough; he knows Andrew is trying to display those things, _maybe_ , but he doesn't understand _why_. Andrew is a man of action and truths, and everything is done for a reason. But sadly, whatever message he's trying to relay is going over Neil's head completely. Coupled with whatever Andrew is keeping to himself, the order of events just doesn't compute in Neil's mind.

Sometimes, he really does need it all spelled out.

He smiles sheepishly as he thinks it, and runs it over in his head one last time. Andrew's hiding something, but he thought to precede his confession with this...date, with _touches_. Why?

Neil's still got nothing.

Andrew's gaze narrows, but it's pouty instead of menacing. Associating the word _pouty_ with Andrew Minyard is definitely something Neil will explore later, under different circumstances.

Andrew's heel digs into the soft soil below him, kicking it up in clumps. "It will make sense," he mutters, almost to himself. Then, Andrew quirks a brow at Neil, and it's unfairly critical. Neil huffs before the words even leave Andrew's mouth.

"You're being oddly patient."

_I can be patient._

Sometimes.

Neil crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Would you really answer me if I asked you what was wrong?"

They both know the answer, so Andrew doesn't respond. Andrew can't be asked questions in the typical fashion, he doesn't like feeling interrogated or vulnerable. Neil knows best from his own experience. He can't recall the amount of times Matt or Dan has asked him how he was feeling, only for him to outright lie.

He doesn't mind taking Andrew's _no's_ for what they are, or finding alternate ways to approach a question to get the truth. Andrew does the same for him, seems to know when to press and when not to.

But this time, he knows Andrew _wants_ to tell him. He's practically vibrating with it. But it's still up to him when and how. Neil will accept it, it just won't stop him from coaxing Andrew if it's what he needs.

Regardless of the mystery, of all the things he doesn't know, Neil's calm, as calm as he always is when Andrew is around.

"Exactly," Neil whispers, all fondness. Andrew's answers are things to be given and not taken, and Neil's always delighted in each one.

Andrew's shoulders fall again, and Neil gets an image of Atlas' ears folding back; it flashes through his head so fast, he almost doesn't identify it.

"Don't presume to know me," Andrew says, but it has no bite, no resentment. He sounds tired, and the strain makes Neil's smile falter, his arms falling to his sides. Andrew should never sound so defeated, so hopeless, not even for a moment. It's the tone of a man who's already lost, and Neil's not even aware of what they're playing.

So he smiles again, shaky this time, and hopes with everything he has that Andrew can sense Neil's truth as well. That whatever it is, Neil will still be riding along with Andrew in his truck.

He'll still hold his key like it's something precious.

"No," Neil says back, shaking his head. "I only know what you tell me."

_And if you tell me everything, then I hope it's only because you want to._

He hears a branch snap, and there's a blur of movement as Andrew surges forward. In the next moment, Neil feels himself moving backwards, and his back hits the trunk of one of the nearby trees. It doesn't sting, but it knocks the breath out of him. He doesn't remember being so close to the tree line, or moving so fast, but all those thoughts stop and disappear when he looks into Andrew's eyes.

Neil's lungs stutter to a halt as Andrew's gaze intensifies to that of a wildfire, boring into him and searing him deep, until he feels like he can comprehend nothing else but the singe.

_Are your eyes always this big?_

Andrew trembles, his arms boxing Neil in against the tree, and when he finally exhales it’s ragged and gravelly. It's composure, so close to snapping into oblivion. Neil can't see Andrew's hands, but he does hear the tree trunk begin to crackle beside his ear, the force of Andrew's strength too much for it.

_It's inhuman_ , is what his brain supplies him. It's a fleeting thought, because Neil isn't afraid. He watches Andrew clear his throat and shudder, his body coiled tight. It's still Andrew; whatever frustration he's feeling isn't for Neil.

For Neil, all he has is care. Andrew's hand stiffly pries itself off of the tree trunk and grazes the top of Neil's hood, lifting it up so Neil's face is on full display. The harshness in Andrew's face lessens as his fingers follow the curve of the fabric down to Neil's neck, and after hanging there for a moment, Andrew sighs.

"Watch me," Andrew says, already pulling back. "It will explain everything."

Andrew pauses then, as if waiting for more questions or an objection. Neil doesn't have a need for those. "Okay," he says back, and keeps his hood from falling again.

Whatever it is, he'll accept.

And even though it's what Andrew asked for, he wipes a hand over his face, as if he still can't believe Neil is real. He moves back into Neil's bubble swiftly, and Neil holds his breath, the heat from Andrew's hand inches from his face. "Neil, I—"

Andrew straightens, gaze flashing to somewhere in the distance. The shift in Andrew’s expression is akin to a snap of fingers. Quick, clear.

They both still; instinct is hard to get rid of. Neil has seen that look before in his mother’s eyes: panic.

Neil hears nothing at first, but from the sudden shift in Andrew's frame, he instinctively ducks down. Andrew's hand is already on his shoulder, pushing him farther into the dense brush. Andrew's expression remains blank on the surface, but hostility and something else far more vulnerable begin to seep through the cracks.

It takes Neil longer to hear the mumbled voices gradually getting louder. _People? Out here?_

Maybe he was right about Andrew not being the only one to know about this place.

"What's wrong?" Neil whispers, and Andrew looks down at him finally, grip hard. Neil couldn't get up if he tried.

"Trouble." It's all Andrew says, laced with annoyance. He scoffs in frustration. "Get down and stay here."

Ha. Like that's going to happen.

Neil's senses switch from confusion to fight mode in less than a few seconds. He's rusty, but years of survival and strife aren't things that dull his abilities immediately. His blood runs cold and there's only one thing on his mind: protecting Andrew. He remembers his mother's words, faded and blurry from years buried. But they're still useful; _abandon everything but survival. Do what you must._

Except this time, it's not for him.

He can _help_ , and there's no way he'll make Andrew face whatever this is alone.

With all his might, he resists Andrew’s grip enough to bring himself up slightly, and Andrew actually startles as he pushes Neil back down with effort. " _Neil_ —"

Neil growls. "What—Andrew _no_ , fuck that!" The voices in the distance get louder, clear enough for Neil to make out about three or four of them. They're calling Andrew's name. Neil glares in their direction, grabbing the nearest broken root from one of the trees. It's a little dull, but if he rams it into someone's stomach at full force, it'll definitely do some damage. "Let these assholes try it. See? I'm good."

Andrew hesitates for a moment, blinking down at the weapon with some consideration. Neil can't help but feel just a small blip of smugness. But it doesn't last; Andrew shakes his head furiously right after, as if willing the thought away. "Tempting, but no."

Neil tries to move again, only to end up right back on his ass. He knew Andrew was strong but...he's not even struggling now.

"I can fight," Neil urges; Andrew was the last person he'd ever thought would underestimate him. The hurt he feels blooming inside him is cut off at the stem when Andrew crouches down to him, gaze insistent.

The voices get louder.

"I know," Andrew says lowly, not an ounce of placating or dishonesty in his face. It's as if to say he does know, there was never a moment he didn't. _Then why?_

Andrew grabs Neil's shoulders, trembling again. "And any other time...I would let you. Not this."

Neil blinks. "What do you mean?"

A nearby branch snaps, and Andrew flinches. "Just...yes or no?"

"Yes," Neil answers instantly, not needing to think about it. Andrew leans forward, then places his head firmly on top of Neil's. Neil gasps quietly as Andrew nuzzles him from side to side. He starts at his head and moves down Neil’s face, frantic with it. He rubs his cheek harshly into Neil's, and down to his neck for good measure. Then, he does the same to the other side.

And as random as it is...it's not...unfamiliar.

Neil's felt this before, the back and forth movement, as if it's routine. He nearly expects to feel fur, or the cool press of a wet nose.

It tickles.

Neil blinks in a daze when Andrew pulls back, satisfied with his work.

"Neil, stay here even when it gets to that point," Andrew states calmly.

"What point?"

"You will know."

And something tells Neil that Andrew is right.

He pulls Neil's hood up and pushes Neil further into the brush before Neil can do or say anything more, and then Neil is invisible. He's lost in the brush and scent of the woodland, and maybe something else.

His feet urge him to move, to resist. But something about Andrew's gesture has him staying put as he watches the blond move back out into the clearing. It's just in time for three other men to join him.

They're fairly large, and tall, but Andrew doesn't seem nervous. He just looks unbearably annoyed, and Neil's gut twists at the thought of him getting hurt.

He won't lose though. Neil's not sure where that belief comes from, but his mind won't let go of it. Neil glares as the apparent leader of the group addresses Andrew directly. His voice makes Neil cringe, and he’s taller, stocky. They all are. They have strength locked in them that’s almost abnormal, and Neil squints at them all through the twigs. He’d think they were a normal gang of men with heads too big for their shoulders, obsessed with themselves.

They’re still that, he’s sure, but they’re something else too.

_Inhuman_ , his brain says again, louder.

The leader surveys Andrew suspiciously, glancing at his surroundings. "Guess I found you. Took us some time, I'll give you that. Strange hiding place…"

Andrew doesn't waste time. His leather jacket stretches over his shoulders from the tension locked in them. At first, Neil doesn’t expect Andrew to respond. He’s not a talker, so when he does, Neil wonders if it’s for his sake.

He feels useless again, knees stained with dirt. Andrew’s voice is barren, lazy. "What do you want, degenerates?"

Another one of the men scoffs. He’s lankier, disheveled hair. The same, broad aura. That’s what it is, Neil realizes. It’s like each of them are pressing on his neck.

"Trying to act like you weren't avoiding us, huh Minyard?"

"Not really," Andrew deadpans. "There's nothing for us to discuss, Dakota. Leave."

The man, Dakota, snarls. It's a foreign noise, all throaty and thunderous. The man's shoulders rise into a hunch, lip curling. It feels like he's growing, showing off his size, despite the difference, Andrew feels just as large in presence. He doesn't budge.

" _No_ , I'm sick of you walking around like you own the place when your pack is the weakest for miles."

"I don't own anything," Andrew answers, voice rising in volume. It’s enough to make them lean back. "If this is about that wolf you're courting, it's not my problem that they propositioned me. I said no. Not that you have any right being territorial."

Dakota flinches back before the hostility overcomes him in full force. Neil tries to keep up with the things he doesn't understand but he gets lost at _wolf_. He doesn't get the time to think on it.

Dakota growls, saliva flying. “ _Bullshit_. I know you messed around! If you're okay being that arrogant, then you have no problem proving it to me here and now that you're better.”

Andrew rolls his eyes, but he does plant his feet firmer, tilting his chin up. His voice comes out deeper, almost salivating, anger mounting until it cannot be held back. "I didn’t realize this was the dark ages," Andrew sneers. It’s the first crack in the mask, and more follow. "Fuck _off_. If you want to do this we can do it later, not now."

And it's that insistence that's out of character. It's all for Neil's sake. The explanation, the cowardice, the care. Neil tries not to breathe too hard, and he’s not sure why. Why does he feel like they’d hear?

One of the other men laughs, nudging Dakota in the shoulder. "Coward, scared to lose?"

Andrew ignores him. "There are humans nearby."

Neil's fingers dig into the soil beneath him, dirt sticking under his fingernails. If he's breathing hard, he can't hear it. He only feels the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"So what?" Dakota shrugs, smirking. "I could go for a snack..."

Andrew's calm facade finally breaks at those words, and he snarls back, body poised to strike. His hands come out of his pockets and curl at his sides, elongating slightly. All three of the men flinch back before they remember the false bravado they're supposed to be showing, and crowd Andrew's space.

"He's lying, I don't smell anything," one of them says. "Just _his_ disgusting scent."

"You're out of luck, Minyard. No more running."

Funny, Neil's been told those exact words from his father. They came back to bite the speaker in the ass, and from the way Andrew stands in front of them fearlessly, Neil thinks the same thing is about to happen. And besides, Andrew's never run from anything.

Andrew's face turns to ash, the shadows within promising only ruin for those in his way, in _Neil's_ way. With all Andrew's protectiveness and strength, Neil doesn't believe he's ever seen Andrew truly upset, _enraged_.

This is far, far beyond that.

It's the kind of ferocity that's quiet, lacking arrogance or performance. It's terrifying. But all Neil can feel is safety, and the smell of smoke singes his nostrils all at once.

When Andrew speaks again, his normal calm, deep tone is pitched low, gravelly with weight. It's as if he's struggling to speak, the syllables whining as he growls through them. "We'll see."

Neil watches Andrew's eyes flick over to the bush he's hiding in lightning fast, but it's enough for Neil to catch it. He barely has time to mouth the word ' _oh_.'

This is the moment that Andrew was talking about.

It all happens at once. There's a crack as the seams of Andrew's leather jacket pop and tear, and Neil's breath gets sucked back into his lungs as he watches his reality turn on its head. Andrew's shoulders expand until all Neil can see are shreds of clothes on the floor; pale skin is replaced by dark fur, sticking up as if the instinct to attack is running through Andrew's veins and down to the strands. A loud snarl rips through the air as Andrew's body contorts until it's unrecognizable, face elongating, and then only his eyes remain the same. His body shifts so that it's crouching down, and when Andrew howls, he's twice his usual height.

Bones snap and creak, the sounds louder than trees falling in the forest.

And suddenly, he's not so unfamiliar after all.

For a mere beat of time, Atlas stands there in all his beauty, and Neil would know his puppy anywhere. The world goes quiet, and it's just Atlas across the clearing, complete and whole. Neil never would've thought that he wasn't before this exact moment. But there was always something missing.

Just how Neil knows Andrew, with all their similarities and shows of affection, he knows the truth in the blink of an eye. It's more that he feels it, the parts snapping together as he watches his puppy, _his_ wolf.

But this isn't the normal, loving Atlas. His ears are folded back, not in sadness, but in rage, and all Neil can focus on are the razor sharp teeth that are fully posed to sink into flesh. Atlas' tail sticks all the way up, and the desperate need to defend is so undeniably Andrew, that it all slots perfectly into place.

At that moment, Neil's reality comes back into focus, and merges into something new.

Shock takes a backseat to recognition, and then to concern. Neil stops himself from yelling out, keeping his promise to stay put. It's then he realizes the other men have shifted into wolves as well, all curled snouts and bared teeth. Their burly bodies promise nothing but violence. They're just as big as Andrew's wolf form, and no matter how strong Andrew might be, there's no way he can come away from a three on one unscathed. Right?

But, maybe Neil shouldn't make assumptions on things he knows nothing about.

Atlas— _Andrew,_ is only there in that form for a brief second. In the next, the black wolf contorts again, and the other wolves cower back, unable to appear unfazed as Andrew takes on a more human shape. And _ah_ , Neil thinks.

Not his wolf. His _werewolf_.

Andrew's wolf form bends and twists upright until Andrew towers over the others, chest broad and thick with a coat that would take more than a tough bite to pierce. His head is still that of a wolf, though impossibly larger, twice the size of Neil's and sitting atop menacingly wide shoulders. His tail hangs long between his thick legs, guiding Neil's eyes down to even longer feet and claws. His gaze travels back up to Andrew's hands, the ones that treat him so gently and barely brush against him. He also thinks of Atlas' paws on stormy nights, pressed softly to Neil's chest.

Now, those hands could hold Neil's whole body in just one palm, crushing him or slicing him to shreds.

He knows this, realizes this, and equates them all anyways. They're the same.

And Neil's not afraid. He searches once for any ounce of fear or distrust, and finds none. Because no matter what form he's in...

He's Andrew.

Neil doesn't have much time to think beyond that.

The other wolves lunge, and Neil's never been a fan of blood, no matter how much he's been forced to see and shed. He closes his eyes.

The sounds of snarling and yapping gradually spike; there's the notable crash of bodies together, an attempt at tearing flesh. The bodies sound like they hit Andrew dead on before snapping back, no match for whatever rage and strength Andrew has been keeping to himself. Once, twice, they try to rush him again and again, the thuds growing more desperate by the minute.

It's by no means a battle though; it's over far too soon. The howls turn to wails, the growls to whimpers. There’s loud, powerful barks that Neil recognizes as Andrew’s, and he can’t imagine not being pushed back by that sound.

Neil hears the boom of legs hitting the floor, a tree trunk snapping hard enough to make Neil flinch, like something was thrown against it. And that must be the sign that they’ve extended themselves. There's scuffling and running, a frantic beat of paws against the earth as sets of whines decrease lower and lower in volume.

Retreating.

It's the cries of wounded animals, ones who never stood a chance.

Neil knows none of the whines belong to Andrew.

The steady thump of claws in the dirt muffles until it's completely gone, and the silence of the woods is left. But it's that empty, abnormal silence from before. It makes so much sense now.

There's still a beast in the midst, Neil supposes, just not one he needs to worry about.

Andrew wouldn't leave him.

He hears a loud, ragged sigh reach his ears, so typical of Andrew's frustration, but Neil keeps his eyes closed. He promised to stay put until Andrew came to get him, and as stubborn as he is, he doesn't know if he could move if he tried.

At one point, he can feel Andrew looking at him, he just knows those eyes are on him. The gaze sweeps over him and through him, like it always does, and it doesn't matter how inhuman or monstrous those eyes are. They soak Neil to the bone with comfort, and he holds his breath as large footsteps sink into the ground towards him.

It only takes Andrew three or four to close the distance.

The next thing Neil knows, he's being licked gently on the cheek, and his eyes snap open not to find a werewolf, but to find his puppy. Andrew must’ve shifted back on his way, but Neil will have to tell him later he wouldn’t have minded meeting the beast up close. He’s no different.

Golden eyes stare at him, facing their fate, but they're duller. Sad.

Neil can't help but sigh, the fondness waging a war in his chest. It's like he's seeing the wolf for the first time. He's big, far bigger and more beautiful than any dog. Mistaking him for one had been his first sin. His paws could crush Neil's chest without effort, and those pearly whites Neil once brushed would have no problem going for his throat. Still, the dog had never so much as snapped at him or scratched.

Neil finds himself smiling sadly back, a small apology he's not sure he needs to give. Neil supposes he can't call him Atlas anymore, and that doesn't feel right anyways, but he's still his puppy. He hopes that doesn't change.

Andrew sits in front of him, still impossibly tall and menacing, but it doesn't feel that way. It's as if Andrew is waiting to be judged or sent away. Neil blinks up at him.

Yeah, he sort of gets it. He thinks maybe he should be angry, but even now with this last secret, he doesn't go back on his beliefs. He knows Andrew; Andrew is no deceiver, he only exists to protect. And protect he did. The secrets Neil shared with him were never repeated, never treated without the upmost care. Neil's only upset that Andrew hadn't been comfortable telling him sooner, as if Neil could have any other reaction than to take Andrew into his arms like he's done time and time again.

Slowly, he reaches his arms out to do just that, and his voice is tight when he speaks. "Yes or no?"

The wolf's eyes widen, but never the less he nods, inching forward with a low whine.

Neil collapses into him. Of course, Andrew doesn't budge, but the stiff muscles melt like jelly beneath Neil's body, and he rubs his face into Andrew's chest so that all he can feel and see is warm fur. He feels one of Andrew's front legs wrap around him hesitantly, keeping him there; it's not affectionate. Neil thinks Andrew just can't believe he's still there.

And Neil's not sure how to say it yet, how to deal with the lump rapidly forming in his throat, but soon enough he'll be ready.

He'll tell Andrew that as long as Andrew wants him to stay, Neil will do just that.

\--

He rides on Andrew's back on the way home.

Andrew leaves the truck locked in the middle of the woods, forgotten, and he probably has to do that a lot, Neil realizes.

Always at Neil's house, spending hours with him...Neil would've guessed Andrew might've gotten sick of him at some point, yet whenever Atlas seemed to be gone, Andrew was there in the flesh.

It's hard for him to fit it all together.

Neil's face rests between the wolf's shoulders, taking in the clean, smokey scent of his fur. Neil still can't believe how soft it is as he twirls it in his fingers. The entire time, Andrew walks slow, savoring the touches, and the woods stay the same: quiet. It's not as offputting as it used to be.

If they're both avoiding reaching their destination, neither of them acknowledges it.

Neil's not sure why Andrew would be avoiding it, other than the illogical fear of being found out. _Neil's_ the one who poured his heart out a few nights before though, not him. He closes his eyes, willing his own words away.

He had no way of knowing, but he remembers the sad way Andrew had howled then, uneasy in Neil's arms.

Maybe he should be worrying less about himself wanting to stay, and more about _Andrew_ wanting to. Neil might've made him too uncomfortable, and there's no real way to lie his way out of it.

He wouldn't want to either.

He told his truth, like he meant to, just not under the circumstances he might've predicted. If Andrew was going to reject him, it would happen eventually. There's no delaying that, as much as Neil wishes it.

His breathing stutters in his chest and Andrew falters, turning his head around to try and glimpse Neil's face. Hm. _Even when you can't see me, you know._

It's exposure at its most severe, like Neil is flayed open.

But if Andrew can sense Neil's turmoil, he chooses not to do anything about it yet. His pace picks back up, carrying Neil until his dingy little house comes into view from the back.

It looks so lonely like that, white rafters and decaying wood shining in the middle of an overgrown, grassy abyss. For once, it brings him no comfort to cross through the gate and into the backyard.

"I don't know if I ever told you, I had a dream about doing this once," Neil says, tapping Andrew between the shoulder blades. They cross through his creaking gate, and the squeak of metal makes them both cringe. Andrew stops, and listens. "I rode you into battle like a horse, you even had armor and everything."

Andrew's breath comes out in a rumble, and Neil wonders if it's a laugh. No, he knows it is.

He swallows thickly as he slides off Andrew's back and onto the dirt below, legs shaking for new reasons. Andrew watches him, squinting at whatever is on Neil's face.

Reading out, Neil guides Andrew closer to him by the snout, and can't believe Andrew follows. Surely, it can't always be like this.

He knows Andrew cares for him, he wouldn't have done everything up to this moment if he didn't. But Neil has no experience with this, no way of knowing if Andrew's feelings are fleeting or typical.

Neil just knows his are not. He wants Andrew, and only Andrew. Neil's not used to getting what he wants, but more than that, he wants Andrew to be free. If nothing else, he feels that more strongly than ever after today.

"Thanks for letting me try it," Neil whispers, and Andrew bumps his head against Neil's. He nuzzles back and forth as routine dictates, and Neil can't help but laugh as he follows suit. Andrew rears back, startled by it, like that day when Neil kissed his nose. Neil flushes at the memory now, and bites back his apology. Andrew hates those.

So instead, Neil steels himself, and breathes in. "I meant what I said, I won't take it back. But...I would never ask that of you unless it was something you wanted," Neil whispers, and gives Andrew a small grin. "Not that you'd ever do anything you didn't want to do."

Andrew stares back, unblinking.

"I just need you to tell me, and I'll listen," Neil says, deflating at the implication. _If you want me to leave you alone, I will._ He doubts these feelings themselves will ever go away, but that's his problem. He's handled worse pain.

But Andrew doesn't shift right away, doesn't answer him. Neil blinks at him in confusion, waiting for the boundaries to be laid out and accepted.

Instead, he finds himself with the back of his shirt in the wolf's mouth a second later.

" _Hey!_ " Neil cries out when he feels his body lift off the ground. Andrew growls at him in annoyance to be quiet, and then quite literally sweeps Neil up.

Andrew carries him like he's a doggie bag through the yard and into the house, and only sets Neil down long enough for him to open the door. The entire time, Andrew's anticipation and impatient energy rolls off him in waves, making Neil's own body whirl. It's the only time he's somewhat felt hunted by the animal.

Neil scrambles to make sense of how it's happening, but he's powerless to stop it. Andrew's stronger than he thought. And bigger.

Neil crosses his arms as he's rushed inside, no detours allowed, and is unceremoniously deposited onto the soft bed with an _oof_. He grabs his head to stop the whirring, rising up from his back just in time to see Andrew disappear into the bathroom.

"Andrew?"

A slam of a cupboard is all he gets in reply.

Oh. Right.

Andrew leaves clothes there at times, even when he refuses to stay over. Neil always wanted to ask why. Neil pouts as he hears rattling from the other room, and a suspiciously loud clang followed by a curse.

It's not a puppy visit if something doesn't end up broken. That's what Neil always says.

He fights a smile as Andrew comes back into the room, out of breath and not nearly as put together as usual. Neil doesn't mean in his state of dress; Andrew threw on a hoodie and some work jeans, standard, but his face is anything but. The tops of his cheeks are flushed red, taking away from the scowl on his face and the power behind his stance. Somehow, even back as a 5 foot human, he carries the same authority.

But now to Neil, all three Andrews are basically on the same level. And right now...this is very much his puppy. Cute.

Neil's smile falters when Andrew wipes a hand through his hair, sighing as he trudges over to Neil. He's not sure he's ever seen Andrew like this, flayed open himself, but his eyes don't lie. Andrew drops to his knees slowly, staring up and into Neil as if he can glean so much from that alone.

From all that's happened, Neil knows he can. But there's also still so much Neil _doesn't_ know, and Andrew can see the loss there as well.

Andrew dips his head silently, an apology without the words. The words are useless, but now the secrets are out. It's simply Andrew's vow to be as straightforward as he can from then on.

Or, Neil hopes so.

"Neil," he begins, and just the sound of his voice, still somewhat strained and deep, sends shivers through Neil's spine. His body's reaction is impossible to fight, and he feels Andrew's hands curl into the comforter beneath them. Neil is boxed in, easy prey, and yet fear is non-existent. Andrew swallows, and tilts his head. "What do you know as of right now, this moment?"

And oh, this Neil can do. Observation, timekeeping. Andrew's lips twitch when Neil's shoulders relax.

"You're a werewolf." That's the main thing, he thinks with a roll of his eyes. It doesn't sound so weird saying it aloud, because Andrew never feels like a fantasy or a blur. He is what he is, even if that happens to be something Neil never could've imagined. It's just the state of things.

Andrew nods, searching Neil's face for any reluctance or hesitation. There is none. "And?"

"You're my puppy."

At that, Andrew rolls his eyes too. "Yes I am."

Neil smiles, and then, quieter: "You know I like you."

It comes out childish, because it's clearly more than that, but it's the best Neil can do. Andrew tilts his head further, and with nothing else to do but panic, Neil mirrors him all the same.

Andrew shakes his head, but it's gentle, familiar. For a moment he flinches, as if his instinct to reject it. That’s typical Andrew too. But in the end, Andrew’s not surprised, or annoyed. He just accepts it, as he's always accepted Neil.

A snarl suddenly rips through Andrew’s throat as he looks down, as if contemplating, and Neil tenses when Andrew shakes his head. The blond sighs, closing his eyes.

It takes a thirty second silence for Neil to understand that Andrew is pushing himself for Neil again, and Neil longs to return the favor. Then again, maybe to Andrew, this is already reciprocation. Neil’s not sure how much he cares about that anymore.

He’s not keeping track.

"Neil, why did I pretend to be your dog?" Andrew asks then, and the question catches Neil off guard.

"Because you—" "He begins, but realizes he doesn't have an answer. Huh? "Well because..."

Well because...why? He reviews all he knows about Andrew, his motivations, down to his denied wants and simple needs. He's blunt and mysterious, and does things only for those he cares about. Still, there was no reason at that time for him to go along with Neil's ridiculousness, or return day after day. Neil was a stranger, and yet Andrew let himself be stripped down and cared for. He cared for Neil in return and listened to him for hours.

There would only be one reason for Andrew to do it: because he wanted to. And if he wanted to, then—

Neil's eyes widen. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Andrew draws back a little, retreating, and it's oddly shy. Neil doesn't get to see that side of Andrew often, but he likes it. He likes it more than he can put into words.

He can't make sense of the gravity of such a simple confession, how painfully honest and _Andrew_ it is in nature.

_You like me_ , he thinks, over and over.

And when he remembers the dead bird on his doorstep, he starts to think maybe Andrew had beaten him to that conclusion long before Neil's own feelings had a chance to form.

Neil brings his hands to his lap, tightening them around each other. He has to know, he has to confirm it's not all in his head. "Since when?"

Outside, a gentle rain begins to fall, and for once, Neil doesn't pay it any mind. He can't be worried about it when he's with Andrew. He's always been aware of every chance of a storm, and now...

Andrew reaches forward, prying Neil's hands apart to keep him from doing too much damage, and firmly sets them at his sides. When he looks up, his eyes are the same as on that first day, as if he can't believe Neil is real. "You weren't afraid of me."

_That's why you turned around._

_That's why you came with me._

And then Neil's life was changed forever, he's not sure if it was good or bad. He doesn't care. It feels right, and he never wants to let it go.

"I'm still not," Neil says, a promise, despite Andrew's detest for them. They can't be trusted, he once told Neil, but Neil's vow is far beyond that. He'll prove it. He reaches his palm out to hover between them, and Andrew perks up instantly. Neil smiles, the dread settling in his bones until its spun like thread into contentment. "So, are you going to stay?"

Andrew has the nerve to look annoyed. Neil asks dumb questions sometimes, so Andrew better get used to it. "There's no other option at this point."

It's more of a comfort than Neil thought it would be, knowing neither of them can go back. And they don't want to.

Neil's breathing hiccups, and Andrew guides Neil's hand to his neck, his most vulnerable spot, and brings Neil's face closer by the back of his neck as well. He cocoons them safely like that, sharing breath until the rain and time no longer matter. Neil will have to ask what the deal is with nuzzling later, but for now, he happily indulges.

He never understood kissing much either, but with Andrew pressed so close, Neil realizes it’s far from the most intimate experience one can feel.

But, it seems Andrew can’t resist doing it anyways.

They don’t kiss right away, and Neil thinks perhaps he should be more shocked when it happens. The calm silence stretches on for a while until he feels Andrew lift his head, pushing himself up towards Neil.

He’s kissed a total of three people before Andrew, none of them due to his own feelings or wants. They were pathetic, chaste things. Andrew’s lips graze his and it’s just as small and fleeting. It shouldn’t be special, but when Neil dares to press back lightly, it’s better than anything he’s experienced before. He feels this kiss. It’s in the slight graininess of Andrew’s nose as it bumps against his, and the slow glide of Andrew’s fingers over his jaw. Neil sighs into it and shivers as he dives in too enthusiastically.

And like everything else with Andrew, it will probably never get old to him. Andrew huffs when their lips stick together, but he indulges Neil in press after press of their lips, small pecks that dot the air louder than the rain outside. Neil goes back for more each time, and the kisses aren’t even deep; they’re firm, but he breathes harder anyways, overcome by it.

By want.

Neil would get lost in it for hours if he could, maybe even let Andrew deepen the kiss with more expertise than Neil has to offer, but he’s stopped by Andrew’s own agenda.

A few minutes pass before Andrew suddenly pulls back, breath held. There's a new franticness in his eyes, not panic or worry, but it still makes Neil straighten up. He...he doesn't hate it, not by a long shot. It’s then he notices that Andrew’s hands are clenched unbearably tight in the comforter still, worse than before their kiss.

_Hm?_

"Neil," Andrew states, voice dipping into that deep range again. He winces to himself, like he’s trying not to salivate. Neil nods quickly. "There's something I...have been needing to do for a while. Yes or no?"

Neil thinks it's meant to come out carefree, but it doesn't. It's laced with barely held together self-control.

Andrew's tongue sweeps over his front teeth, which are beginning to elongate, but Neil blinks at him, unbothered by it.

"Uh, yes but what— _ah_!"

The wind is knocked out of him, and Neil finds himself weighed down by who knows how many pounds of fur. Andrew shifts into his wolf form in the blink of an eye, giving Neil no chance. His puppy puts all his weight on him, keeping him face down and warm. Neil's confused until he feels the first lick.

Neil gives a tiny yell that devolves quickly into laughter as he feels his hair begin to stick up. The wolf's tongue is firm and merciless as it grooms Neil's hair, and not effectively, from what he can tell. How does giving Neil a cowlick help anyone?

Neil tries to move as he laughs, but Andrew huffs out a growl in between licks to urge Neil to sit still. Neil blushes, the grin on his face beginning to hurt. Andrew pulls himself back only to admire his handy work from time to time, nudging Neil's locks with his nose. Then, he's back at it, adjusting wherever he needs to.

"Hey! I'm clean, I'm _clean_ I swear!" Neil wheezes, and feels a paw ruffle through his bangs, resetting all of Andrew's hard work. He's not sure what's happening, or the point of it, but the feeling surrounding them is nothing short of affectionate. Neil can smell fresh soil and dew and smoke, and it's all intoxicating. All lively. He can't get enough of it.

Neil laughs again as he gives up, sagging against the bed to let Andrew nuzzle to his heart's content. By the end of it, his hair sticks up like devil horns, but Andrew nods, satisfied.

If this is what comes with dating a werewolf, then so be it.

Neil will gladly take every moment of it.

\--

Before he falls asleep that night, he feels Andrew's arm press against his lower back, human again. He blinks away the sleep enough to hear Andrew's voice through the fog of exhaustion, sleepy and full of teasing that Neil's sure has only just begun.

"Also, no more dog treats, okay?"

Neil's eyes snap open, sleep forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and for the positive feedback last chapter! as I said I will be taking a break from this au but I'm excited to return to it in the future! 
> 
> Next time: neil visits andrew's house? nicky shenanigans? neil learns about scenting, among other things ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Part 2 is already done and ready, but does need some editing, so I hope to post soon <3 After that I will be taking a bit of a mini break from this series to work on some other projects, I just love this AU so much I don't wanna burn out (but there's a lot of this AU I want to explore so stay tuned ^^) 
> 
> Thanks again for reading, comments are appreciated!


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